


The crack inside your heart

by laudanum_and_wine



Series: Til Death, Only Longer [1]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Anal Play, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Breathplay, Did I mention it's porn, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I mean ghostsex could be called monsterfucking already but lets up the game folks, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn with Feelings, Self-Indulgent, Seriously don't do BDSM this way, Slut Shaming, Suicide Attempt, Threesome - F/M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudanum_and_wine/pseuds/laudanum_and_wine
Summary: The difference between settling for someone and being happy is just your outlook. Lydia doesn't have a lot of delusions about true love, but she does know a lot about death, and she's learning more about sex.Put on you bad idea jeans to enjoy a really unhealthy relationship y'all! A strung together series of one-shots and scenes from a post-movie/cartoon universe. Some reference to the musical (because who doesn't want to make their characters say "let's find a girl scout and cut off her legs").
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Series: Til Death, Only Longer [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631473
Comments: 63
Kudos: 124





	1. Disassociative

**Author's Note:**

> Note: these aren't gonna be everyone's cup of tea, go in with open eyes but a GOOD LOOK AT THE TAGS. I'm old enough to remember having a crush oh the cartoon Betelgeuse when the show was airing reruns, and of COURSE cartoon Lydia and Beej were in love because spluh, obviously. That being said, Musical!Lydia is too goddamn young and I think there's a whole literal sog and dance about why that's not cool. Be aware this is not beta'd, here there be typos.

Lydia wriggled and tried to stand, but his arms were still wrapped firmly around her chest. She'd managed to flop her way onto her elbows at the edge of the bed, but then with a malicious huff he'd crawled over, thrown his arms around her waist, and used his weight to pin her down.

"Ugh! You absolute monster," she was being dramatic and she knew it. "Even men being executed get their cigarette."

“You planning on dying?” 

"La petite mort."

He snapped his fingers and his pack was in her hand, lighter tucked under the plastic. She'd wanted her cloves in the silver case, with the long striped cigarette holder and cross shaped lighter, all elegance and class. His pack was greasy plastic and torn paper, a pack of Coffin Nails (which she was certain was a brand no longer in production) and the liquor store lighter had a warped horoscope pattern in flaking paint. Aries, of course. 

Lydia knew better to complain and lit one, dropping the pack to the floor when done. She rolled onto her back, blowing smoke at the bed's canopy. He used the new access to her chest to pinch and lick at a nipple distractedly. 

"Ashtray," she said offhandedly.

His hands slipped lower, and while she wasn't complaining she also didn't have any illusions that his wandering fingers were intended for her benefit. 

"Ashtray," She repeated, then ashed her cigarette onto his back when there was no reply. Within two or three flicks of the thing he hissed, snapped again, and an ornate marble ashtray appeared beside them on the bed.

"Happy, Princess?" Both his hands were back between her legs in a moment.

"Yes, thank you," she snarked back, but spread her legs to show her appreciation. He grinned up from between them. She managed to get almost halfway through her smoke break before his fingers did something clever and she had a hard time holding on to the smouldering tobacco.

She stubbed out the rest of her cigarette in the marble goliath on her bed, then rolled her hips in reply.

"More of that, the thing with your tongue."

"That wasn't my tongue," he snickered from between her legs, and she realized he had at least two hands holding her still and one inside her.

"You fucking monster," she shook, feeling something claw-like grip her ankle loosely.

"Literally, but don't shame me for it babe. You're the one fucking the monster, after all," he purred against her lips, a tongue finally doing the requested 'that' to her clit again even as he whispered sweet threats into her ear. Another hand snapped and the marble ashtray vanished giving him room to pull her roughly under him without the worry of accidentally braining her on the stone.

"Come," he said commandingly.

"But I'm right here," she giggled like it was clever, but then he repeated the command in a low pitch that she was fairly sure human vocal cords couldn't get long enough to reach, and she obeyed with a gasp and a cry that was almost a scream but which he swallowed up in a mouth with too many teeth.

She lay there panting for some time while he traced her skin with teeth and lips and the normal quantity of two hands. She finally rolled over, swiping for his cigarettes again, but he only sighed and dragged her back down roughly. 

"What?" She demanded, frustrated to lose her minimal progress towards her goal.

"You shouldn't be able to crawl," he joked. "Must not be doing my job right, one more try."


	2. Made to look just like a human being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for this kind of behavior, I have to be honest here.

She was already flushed from the sun when she heard him snap into existence behind her, and the heat kept her still and relaxed despite the noise. It wasn’t the normal thunder and flash of nuclear glow, just the sound of ghostly fingers which alone told her that he wasn’t really there.

"Hey Beej," she didn't open her eyes behind the heart shaped sunglasses. "Would you get me an ice pop?"

“Sure Doll, you know the magic words,” He was still half-substantial in the shadow of the doorway, asking her to give him substance.

Lydia was very aware that she had full run of the house for the summer, with her parents in New York until the start of her senior fall semester. She had draped her beach towel on the roof outside her room, and because of that her view was out to the mountains rather than to downtown. Keeping all this in mind, she rolled over onto her stomach and stripped out of the bikini top, tossing it back toward the window and her ghost with a smile. “Please?” 

She felt him blink away then come back within seconds, reappearing in the shadows with a white wrappered ice cream. Beej stood just inside the doorway, semi-corporeal in the shadows but fading to near-transparent in the sun. 

“Want your treat?” He backed up into the shadows a step and held out the frozen desert with a smirk. 

Lydia stood and paced over to him, swaying her hips as she came. His eyes were fixed on her chest and he didn’t even try to hide it. She snatched up the ice cream before he could come up with a way to keep it from her. She stepped back into the sunlight, watching him frozen in the shade where he retained just a little more solidity. She quickly unwrapped the already melting treat, needing to lick at it quickly to keep it from dripping onto the roof tile. She finished tracing a drip up from her wrists to her fingertips then licked her lips. 

“Mh, vanilla, thanks Beej,” She sat down on her towel again, realizing that now that the sun had moved her legs were tantalizingly close to the shade where her poltergeist was now kneeling. “You know sometimes I like vanilla. It’s the simple things, right?” 

“Let me in, Lyds,” He growled from the shadows.

“Sure Betelgeuse,” She slid the entire popsicle into her mouth then out and watched him gain a hint more substance. He could probably smell her with just the one recitation of his name, all sugar and coconut oil. “Just let me finish this ice cream. Don’t you want me to finish this ice cream? You can just sit there and keep yourself busy while I finish.”

She looked over and realized he was already rubbing himself through his pants. She let her knees fall open, and watched a drip of ice cream spatter onto her thigh. She rolled her hips, feeling the fabric of the bikini shifting and knowing that’s where his eyes were as well. 

“Oh Betelgeuse, could you help me with this spill?” She drew out his name and he shuddered visibly and inched forward. His skin was far less transparent in the light now that he was two thirds of the way into her world. 

Beej tested the light with one hand, and when his arm remained more or less solid he crawled all the way out and over her. He leaned down to lick a long stripe up her leg, tasting the spilled sweetness, but on her skin it felt like a cold breath of air. His left hand was braced on her shin, but his right hand was already jerking himself off slowly.

She shuddered happily, leaned back onto her elbows, and smeared the last of the ice cream down her chest. 

“Would you mind? But, no hands,” she amended. “Your hands are so cold, but your tongue is so warm.” 

This time she could feel his touch a bit more, still cold lips and tongue but she almost felt the wet of them drying after he pulled away. 

“You’re kilin me here babes,” He panted in the sunlight but wasn’t slinking back into the shade anymore. 

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve no life left to lose,” She rolled over and slid her bottoms off, basking naked in the low light. She stopped playing dumb, “Can you feel my body heat like that, Beej?” 

“Yes,” he swallowed audibly. He’d discarded his tie at some point, shirt half buttoned and dick hard in his hand. 

“And if I let you out, what are you going to do?"

“I’m going to fucking wreck you, love.” 

“Promise, Betelgeuse?” she asked over her shoulder. 

There was a crack and a pop like a bomb, and the roof was empty save for a popsicle stick.


	3. Until somebody better comes along

The first time had been entirely her doing, and some days she needed to remember that. When she was planning an outfit around hiding a hickey, it was easy for her to say every girl did this and it was healthy

When she was applying fresh gauze to an ornate letter 'B' carved into her thigh during some intense blood play that had become scarification without either of them paying attention, it was harder for her to maintain the illusion they were "healthy."

So she thought back to their first times a lot, remembering how good it felt to be the one making decisions for once in her life.

They'd been walking back from Downtown together, where they'd spent the whole afternoon sneaking into horror movies at the local theater. Beej had made an excellent lookout what with the not being visible to anyone but her. By the time they were full of popcorn and they'd scared the last patron's out of the last horror movie of the night they headed out. BJ was munching stolen popcorn.

"Junior Mints?" He offered.

"You bought Junior Mints?"

"Nope," he tossed the empty popcorn bag into the gutter.

"Gross. Weird germs could kill me, remember?"

"No they couldn't, babe. You've been hanging out with a dead man for years, some things rub off," he dug long fingers into the box of candy. "When was the last time you got a cold?"

"I don't remember…" Lydia shrugged. 

"You're essentially immune to everything, my guess. Though I gotta be honest, some of your social difficulties might be my fault. I give off an aura of death, you might too. I can't judge," he fished out the last candy and popped it into his mouth. "But hey, you could probably lick a corpse and be safe."

They were next to the graveyard now, and she stopped in her tracks.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he licked chocolate off a knuckle as he walked back a few paces, tossing the candy box into the bushes.

"Okay Betelgeuse, " she looked up at him and thought for a heartbeat. Before he could snap at her about using his name she smiled, grabbed him by the tie, and dragged him down into a kiss.

He froze for a moment, then he was busy licking his way into her mouth, dipping her low in his arms, one hand on her ass.

She pulled back just a hair, and some rational part of him recognized that a little restraint might help him out. He stood her upright, brushing off her dress quickly, and jumped back to stare at her from two steps away.

"So. What was that?"

"Trial by fire, Betelgeuse. If I'm not dead in a week, than you're right and I'm immune to all your grossness," she straightened his tie a bit as she walked past him. He almost didn't flinch at his name.

It took him a minute to realize she was still heading home, without him, and he had to jog to catch up. He was panting, which she thought was hilarious both because if he'd thought about it he could've just floated to catch up and because he was dead, how was he out of breath?

"So I had a thought," he managed to pant out, "What if that wasn't a thorough enough test?"

They'd made it over the hill and were almost to her driveway, but she only slowed rather than pausing, "Go on."

"I mean, a kiss is hardly a scientific method right?"

"And your mouth is hardly the extent of your grossness," she agreed.

"Right, right, wait-" he stopped his enthusiastic nodding. "What."

"Hm, how about this," she kept talking, ignoring his expression of confusion. "I'll call you in a week and you can see if there's some other experiment we want to try."

They were at her porch now, and while normally he'd have come in with her, tonight's kiss made him pause. She turned to face him, edging into his space. He edged right back, smelling her hair and leering. She tipped her head up, leaned in, and brushed a bear hint of a kiss to his lips.

"Goodnight, Betelgeuse," she grinned, and he felt the pull of being thrown back to the Netherworld even as he leaned in to chase her lips. 

"Oh, OOOH! Oh, she's clever, I HATE THAT!" He raged around the Roadhouse but was smiling all the same.


	4. Last day on Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I'm on my bullshit with halfway arthouse monster-sex. Sorry if that's not your thing, btw. Also comments are life, I literally don't care if it's an emoji, make me feel something! (whoops that got real)

Every time he got comfortable with Lydia, she’d go and do something shocking that kept him on the edge of his seat. They’d only been having sex for maybe a few months, but he could smell the complacency in it already, then one day she changed rules completely. 

"Come fuck me in the shower,” she whispered into his ear. 

He pulled back a few inches and studied her seriously, “Are you just trying to change my grooming habits by using sex as a motivator?”

“What, me, never: you know I find moss sexy. Actually, serious question, what’s with the moss even? Did you die of exposure in a forest?” She was in his lap, grinding against him as she spoke. 

He rolled his eyes the patent-pending way he always did when she asked about how he died, but shifted her to the floor. She pulled off her top, no bra and didn’t he love the heat of summer and how rational his lover was, then stretched like a cat. 

“I’m sweaty, I just want to rinse off. Only I want to get dirty too, and you can see my logic. One stone, two birds,” she was stripping out of her jeans as she spoke, as though his agreement was a foregone conclusion. Which, he supposed, it was. “But really, the moss, I’m curious.”

“I guess it’s like a lazy-beard?” He stood to join her, holding her arm steady as she hopped out of her socks. “If I don’t pay any attention to my appearance, I look like this. If I pay attention I look like a snake, or a monster, or a thousand-throated goat demon, or a dame, or whatever.” She smirked at the word ‘dame’, which he filed away for later.

“So this is your true form? What you looked like Before?” She was undoing his buttons slowly as he walked her backward into the bathroom. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” he hissed when she slid her hot little hand down his pants, and he spent a minute pinning her to the bathroom wall in appreciation. When she was thoroughly out of breath he went on undressing and explaining, “I looked like this before death, sure, but I’ve been dead longer than I was alive and not-human way longer than I was a human. I would say the Adonis you see before you is like my most comfortable clothing.” He posed in her bathroom, nude now, overweight and middle aged with a receding hairline and moss. 

She laughed exactly as he’d planned, but also kissed him so that was alright. He pulled her into the expensive ridiculous shower Delia had insisted upon, all slate walls and glass. She turned on the shower, an oversized thing way too high up on the wall with fourteen settings and a ninety degree range. The stone and glass immediately fogged up. 

“So then what do you ‘really’ look like?” she asked as she lathered up her hands.

“Wouldn’t want to scare you,” he stole the soap away from her and spun her around roughly. He guided her hands to the glass wall, “Stay.” 

She stayed. 

He’d just kneeled, running soapy hands up her legs reverently, when she said it, “You’ve never been able to scare me, Beej. If this is your most comfortable clothing, I want to see you naked.”

“It’s a lot,” he muttered into her hair. 

“I can take it,” she sounded so sure, naked with her legs spread and hands holding slippery glass. He mused on it as his hands traced her sex. 

“How about this,” with a snap he killed the bathroom light, leaving them in a dim glow that filtered in through the mostly-closed bathroom door. “That good enough for ya?” 

“No,” she responded, and began to turn. He caught her with both hands on her shoulders, running his palms down her arms until their fingers were laced together on the glass. “No, but it’s a start.” 

“Stay,” he repeated in her ear, and she felt the planes of his chest pressed against her shoulder-blades. She twitched, keeping their fingers laced, cataloging the new sensations, his tongue and teeth on her shoulder, but his voice in her ear at the same time. Fingers laced into hers pressed against the glass, and a hand on her hip, and one sliding up to finger fuck her roughly, and a loop of softness, maybe scales, around her throat. 

“Yes sir,” she moaned obediently, and he found even more hands and lips to wrap her up in as a reward.


	5. If I loved myself I would shoot you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck, how'd this plot get in here? Ew gross, I promise I'll go back to the porn after this.

They'd cobbled together an unlikely friendship her Sophomore year of high school when the bullying had gotten the worst. She'd been sitting, legs kicking over the edge of the roofline, writing then rejecting suicide notes in a spiral notebook. She'd caught a glimmer of green in the attic window out of the corner of her eye, and hadn't seriously considered it was him. She shifted, moving to sit beside the window.

"So here's what I've got so far," she said, then began reading her latest draft which outlined her recent heartbreak, "To whom it may concern, please be aware that I am dead. To my family, I know you're more disappointed than anything and I'm sorry. Consider your consolation the fact that you'll be able to yell at me about this later. But after this week, after the most recent set of rumors, I think you can understand why this was the last straw here…"

She'd had to pause, editing it a few times as she read, then turned to consider the blank window. "You still against me jumping?" 

There was no reply. 

"Oh right, the rumor. So apparently I'm a massive whore. News to me too, but then again you did try to marry me at the age of fourteen so maybe I emit a miasma of slut," she tried to laugh and elbowed the edge of the window frame like it was a friend. "And honestly that would be a bearable rumor, but it seems that Claire found some trace of our almost-wedding, and used that to fan the flames of me being a tart, married to an older man. Just this week's drama."

She had glanced off the roof on her way back inside, but hadn't even looked like she wanted to jump. 

The next week she was back out on the edge with a new suicide note, some jokes, and more complaints about Claire. She'd actually brought out a little hand mirror to talk at this time.

The next time she was crying so hard he almost didn't understand what she'd been saying, other than the name Claire being repeated a few times. She hadn't read him this weeks suicide note, and she spent more time looking down from the roofline than before. 

And really, he knew the moment she slipped back in through the attic window that anything he did would be a dead (ha) give away. But still, he couldn't help himself. He wasn't a man who wad particularly proud of his self control. 

Claire woke up the next day covered in boils, and Lydia was home from school early while the administration tried to determine if this was from a super virus or something. 

She pulled a large mirror out of the attic and set it under an eave, then sat across from it silently. They sat like that for an hour before he finally materialized in the mirror.

"Oh for fucks sake, you win."

She didn't reply. 

"I said you win, babes. Hello, yeah, hi. I blinked first in this incredibly weird staring contest you created. Congrats."

She was crying.

"Shit, no, stop that. Uggggh, listen. You can't just cry, I'm not able to scare you into stopping from here. Im begging ya, quit it."

She dried her eyes, sniffled a bit, then scooted closer to the mirror. 

"That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me, B. I really needed that," her voice was still thick with sniffles.

"Yeah, well, it's what I'm good at. How've you been, when not maudlin and suicidal?" He leaned against the frame in a slouch, and she smiled.


	6. Love burns its casualties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this thing is developing a fatal case of plot, I didn't intend for that! Don't worry though, another chapter of porn posts later this afternoon, nonplot at all in that one, I promise.

"You never stay for more than a few hours," Lydia's voice was rough, so he took her cigarette away to smoke himself. 

"Sound a little gravely there, babe. Maybe you should cut back," he laughed.

"Do you think I can get cancer still?" She sat up, curious.

"Probably not."

"You never stay more than exactly three hours, unless it's a Friday the Thirteenth or Halloween," she corrected herself, flopping back down to the bed.

He took a long drag on the cigarette that was anatomically impossible, burning the whole thing out in one long blaze of orange. She kept waiting with every appearance of patience. They were at hour two and three quarters, so she was about to be right and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Maybe I just get bored of you," his voice was an earthquake, low and deep and destructive. "Maybe you're only a distraction, and I've got better shit to do elsewhere. With women who don't complain they have to breathe when my cock is down their fuckin throat."

"No," she said unimpressed. "You can't stay, and you want to. Dead women can't swallow and drool and pant when you face fuck them. You're being coy, why?"

He snarled and was standing, dressed, eyes glowing. She thought the full suit was probably intended to make her feel more nude, and vulnerable, but it didn't. She stretched, watching him fixate on her breasts even as he postured and raged. He was panting now, actual puffs of steam, fists white and bloodless and clenched, though most of that was normal.

"Do you want to stay?" She flipped the script, knowing what vulnerability would mean to him in this moment. "Because I want you to, I want you here."

All the building rage drained out of him. She pulled him to sit on the edge of the bed, then sat beside him, throwing a leg over his lap.

"We've got 5 minutes," she started.

"Less," his voice was quiet now.

"So tell me fast if there's something I can do or say to keep you here for the night," he was silent. She wrapped her arms around him, "I want more than a fuck and a nap, Beej. I want to wake up to you snoring and make breakfast and have you steal bacon and pinch my ass. What do I have to do to get that?"

"I gotta go, babe," he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Don't."

He shrugged, then was gone. 


	7. Mouth like heroin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised porn, right? Here's a chapter of that. (It won't last)

She woke up to long fingers covering her mouth and wasn't afraid. 

"Sh, Babes, it's me," he purred into her hair. She sucked his fingers into her mouth in reply, and he used the opportunity to pull her head to the side with a grip on her jaw. "You called me in your sleep. What were you dreaming of? Hmmm, Doll?"

She spoke quietly around the thumb he had pressed to the center of her tongue, "You were choking me."

He started to pull away, but she rolled her hips.

"Oh, that kind of choking, huh? Did you like it?" He was pressed against her again, and she shivered as his cold fingers snaked into her panties and slipped against the wet heat on her thighs. "Oh, you did. Damn, well you liked that a lot, hmm? Did you come?"

She couldn't quite speak with the amount of thumb he'd pushed into her mouth so she settled for shaking her head slightly.

He slid his right hand from her mouth over her throat gently, pressing in just enough for her to breathe hard.

"Babe, I'm going to do you a favor, I'm sure you'll thank me once I let you talk again," she swallowed against his hand and Betelgeuse closed his eyes to just savor that sensation, then went on, "Since your parents are home and you obviously desperately need to be fucked, I'll help you stay quiet. Isn't that magnanimous of me?"

She nodded.

"Panties off," he said, and she wriggled to push them down while his hand on her throat held her in place.

"Beej," she started in a whisper, but he tightened his grip.

"Ah-ah-ah! Don't want to wake your parents, right? No noise," even as he spoke he was using his left hand to tug down his pants and pump his cock lazily. "Are you ready, love?"

He rubbed the head of himself between her folds and she nodded. He sank into her in one slow thrust, watching her twitch and shake and bite her lip. He knew it had to hurt, there was always blood when he went too deep too fast like this. She was so small, so god damn hot and tight, and a considerate lover would have helped prep her with time and affection. But she didn't make a sound as he slid in, just trembled and gasped. 

He stopped then, letting her relax under him. Her pale hands reached up, one holding his hip as though to still him, the other wrapping around the wrist of the dangerous right hand that controlled her air flow. For a moment he thought about moving back, letting her breathe easy. For just one out of control moment he thought about fleeing out the window and never never coming back to ruin Lydia's life.

Then her thumbs were rubbing circles in his hip and between the tendons of his wrist, holding him still there. She was holding him there, telling him not to leave, not to move. He leaned in, kissing her roughly, and her fingers squeezed. He rolled his hips, she made a quiet little moan, and he tightened his hand, completely in control again.

"Quiet, remember?" He whispered, and she nodded in reply, biting her lips white until he loosened his grip again. "Good girl. Good quiet little fuckdoll."

She gasped as he leaned back to hoist her hips higher up, wasn't it cute that just the change in angle had her panting. He smirked when he slammed into her hard, but she didn't make a sound that wasn't breathing. He tried a few repeat thrusts, holding her hips, feeling her legs shake, but she stayed perfectly silent. It was too deep to keep up, but he was impressed by her commitment to silence. 

"Good job," he muttered, then rolled her over. The change in angle had her swallowing against his palm again, which was just such a sweet sensation he couldn't think. With a snap he banished his clothing and her sleep shirt. His left hand pulled her ass up, then pressed her shoulders down and drove back into her slowly with a groan, keeping his movements rolling and shallow to make up for his earlier roughness. Her hands were gripping the pillow on either side of her head. He felt cool spots of drool against his knuckles as his thrusts made the pillows shift under her face. He could feel her relax, muscle by muscle, up her spine and in her arms and throat.

After a few minutes he paused his shallow thrusts, and pulled her upright by the neck, until she was kneeling, back arched, hair a black waterfall between them. He shifted sitting back on his heels and pulling her with him, her weight sliding her down and down and down on his cock, until she was trembling and full again. He held her close, his face in her throat, right hand pulling her back with her gaze fixed at the ceiling. She kept her hands and arms limp at her sides as his left hand stroked down her body, calming her, petting and soothing. 

She exhaled fully, and he could feel her relaxing again, could feel her inner walls letting him slide just millimeters deeper. 

"Mh, you're so good at being quiet. Doing such a good job, babe," his left hand was moving lower, fingers tracing the edges of where they were joined. He ran a come-slicked middle finger up his balls, along the seam of where they were joined, then through her dripping folds, and pressed against her clit firmly. "Think you can come like this, all over me, without making a sound? I bet you can, Princess, bet you make me proud."

His hand on her throat loosened as he rubbed her clit between his thumb and middle finger, flexing and rolling his hips in time. He felt her fingers twitch where they brushed his legs, but she didn't raise her hands. It only took a few minutes before she was close, rolling her hips back onto him, her hands gripping at his thighs as she moved.

"You gonna come for me, gonna milk me dry Lyds?" He whispered, and she came with a little gasp that he really wasn't too upset about. She was trembling and shaking and he let go of her throat to grip her hips, slamming up into her just twice before he was biting at her shoulders and growling, following her right over the edge.

He tipped them over to the side, curling around her possessively. His fingers ran up and down her neck as though feeling for damage.

"I feel like you were pretty loud," Lydia joked as she rolled over to face him. He saw the ghostly impressions of finger shaped bruises on her neck and let his pride and shame argue in his head for a bit before replying. 

"Soundproofed the room, love," his lips were on her throat after he spoke, kissing the marks he'd left one by one. 

"Cheater," she groused, but tipped her head back to give him access.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about all th Manson references, btw. Also sorry for the tags that keep getting updated every time my brain comes up with something new and weird to include.


	8. Lifelike and poseable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where in our fearless hero is more of an asshole than normal and plot becomes even more of a thing.

It wasn't the first time she'd called him only for him not to show up. The last time had been before they started fucking, though, so she'd kind of assumed that maybe the other times he'd been a no-show he was actually jerking it. Or fucking someone else, but she tried not to think of that. 

What bothered her, though, wasn't that he was a no-show even though they were fucking. It was that he wasn't answering her call and the last time they'd spoken Lydia had essentially asked him to stay the night for the first time ever. And he hadn't. Or couldn't? She wasn't sure, and he'd been vague, and she was bothered by all of it.

"Guess I'll go get eaten by wolves," she snarled as she stalked past her bedroom mirror.

It was winter break, and her body had her awake and pestering Betelgeuse at ten AM, and she figured if she wasn't going to be happy today she might as well be tired. They'd only had a dusting of snow, so she laced up her boots and stomped off into the woods for a hike.

She'd been out for almost two hours by the time she felt calmer. The repetitive crunch-snap of snow and twigs was constant and soothing. She found the little shack sometime after noon, and stepped inside excitedly.

The windows and doors were all missing from the cinderblock building, leaving the interior bright enough to see. The walls were covered in graffiti, names and drawings of dicks and one almost decent pin up of a naked woman.

"Betelgeuse, you're missing out."

"On what, porn? Is it porn, please let it be," she heard his voice outside, and turned. He was halfway through a door when she saw him. "Yay, it IS porn!"

She tried to keep her face expressionless. It's not like he was at her beck and call, but where the fuck had he been?

"Where the fuck were you?" She asked, immediately furious at herself for not being able to feign indifference. 

"I had errands to run, babe. Sorry."

"So you used my summoning to come to this side, but couldn't be bothered to say hi?" She was glaring at the nude woman, wondering whom his errand had been.

"I said sorry, fuck. I have my own life," he was interrupted by her scoff, but went on, "Maybe I just didn't have time for you."

"Cute."

"Listen, babes, you're not the only living person I might want to see-" he started speaking, leaning against an interior wall.

"Don't be a dick, Betelgeuse," and he slapped a hand over her mouth roughly.

"Careful with the B word, Jesus!"

"What, was there some other breather you needed to get a quick screw in with?" She was in his face now.

"Maybe, yeah!" He half shouted back.

He really did not expect it when she kissed him roughly, slamming him back into the cement wall. His head hit the stone hard, hard enough that it would've been a knockout if he weren't dead.

Her hands were in his clothes, nails ripping at his chest which, ow, he was dead but still felt things. He pulled back to threaten her over the pain, but the second her lips were free she was on her knees and when had she grabbed his dick because she was already sucking it even half hard as he was.

"Fuuuuuck," he managed the word with a roll of his pelvis, and her nails were in his hips for that, so he just held still and shut the fuck up for the time being.

She was angry, and motivated, and had him gasping air he didn't need within minutes. She slowed for a moment, long enough for him to start begging. With grim satisfaction she slid him further into her throat and swallowed, nails digging into her own palms as he moaned her name and came hard. She swallowed every drop, then stood to face him.

He was wide eyed and breathless and she licked her lips while maintaining eye contact. 

"There's no one but me and we both know it," she hissed the words. "Don't lie to my face, Betelgeuse."

The last thing he saw was her smile sourly, then he was flat on his back on the Roadhouse floor. 

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me that I could write chapters and NOT publish them the moment I finish! I could establish a schedule and shit.
> 
> Or I could spam-dump my writing in hopes for digital affirmations from strangers. 
> 
> Anyway, tip your waitress by leaving a comment! Any comment. ANYTHING.


	9. She's standing on an overpass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get a flashback again! Less smut, more plot, apologies!

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!” She repeated the words at her own reflection, resisting the temptation to fix her black lipstick again. This always felt weird, looking at herself and waiting for him to arrive. Sometimes there was a flash, a bang, a pop. Once or twice he’d made her wait a few minutes, and crept in with cold fingers scratching her skin like a horror movie cliche. She loved it, but the wait was still weird every time. 

This time she felt his breath on her shoulder first, like he was going to startle her, but then he spoke before she could be frightened.

“Hey Babes, how’s it hangin?” 

She looked up and sure enough he was suspended upside down from the ceiling, grinning. 

“Hey Beej! Haven’t seen you in a week.” As soon as she mentioned the duration of their separation, he was rightside up in a heartbeat, both feet firmly on the floor. 

“Has it been? Funny, seems like just yesterday-” He paused as she stepped into his space. 

“Since I kissed you?” She was holding his tie loosely. 

“Yep, yes, that was the thing which you did. Of your own volition. Uh, how are we feeling by the by?" He'd been reeled in as he spoke.

"Not dead," she said, and kissed him again. She was startled but not surprised when his tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting like rain and fresh herbs. 

Somehow they ended up on the bed, sitting side by side for about one ridiculous second before she was crawling into his lap and his hands were just everywhere. 

She came up for air and had to actually put a hand over his lips to get him to pause.

"What? What?" He was kissing her fingertips one by one.

"I still have to breathe, Beej, give me a second."

"Kay, done, second's over, come back to-" she laughed in his face, which he supposed wasn't unexpected. He backed off to let her giggle in peace. After a minute she crawled back off of him to sit beside him. She looked up with dark eyes and he quirked a brow.

"Do you think this is a bad idea?"

"Nope. Wait, what are you referring to be 'this?'" He shrugged and shook his head, "You know what, doesn't matter what part of that you meant, it was all amazing, I'm in."

"I mean," she stilled the fingers he'd begun trailing up her thigh, "Do you think it's a bad idea for us to change our relationship to one that involves making out?"

"No. Why would that ever be a bad idea? That's an amazing idea."

"What if the 'making out and maybe more' bit doesn't work out for us?"

"She said 'and more', there is a God, Hallelujah!" 

"I said MAYBE," she clarified.

"You want me, I want you: Babes, it's not a maybe it's just a when."

"Oh my god you're an ass," she slapped at his wandering hands, which didn't even slow him. "What if being lovers doesn't work out and it ruins our friendship?"

"That's impossible," he was kissing a line up her neck distractingly. 

"Beej, I'm serious."

"Me too, sweet cheeks. Even if you don't want me forever (and look at me, how could you not) you'll never get rid of me," he had her half flat on the bed now, but she laughed. He sat up, paused.

"You can't know that."

"Lydia, I'm only gonna say this once and you should definitely take it in the most threatening way possible: you will never get rid of me."

"Someday I'll get old and boring and you'll forget me-" she started, but he broke in.

"And then you'll die and we'll be fucking unstoppable. I mean, even if I really piss you off, you'll have eternity to forgive me. That's a no-brainer."

"What if I don't forgive you?"

"Remember that time I almost killed your dad?"

"Don't try to distract me," she countered.

"Bingo!" He jumped up and pointed at her, "You like me, we're bulletproof. I mean, failing sandworms there's nothing you can do to stop me from making it up to you if I fuck up. Wait, you've never fed any former lovers to sandworms, right?" He paused in his pacing to let her answer. 

"I've never had a former lover," she pointed out.

He sat abruptly, right where he'd been standing in the middle of the carpet. 

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," she straightened her skirt a little self consciously.

"Well damn," he was still sitting, brows a little wrinkled as though put out.

"Why damn?"

"You won't have any basis for comparison, I'm going to just ruin you for human men and they never had a chance," he laughed as he spoke, and before she could think over his words he was dragging her off the bed by one ankle. "That's so sad for them."

Her butt hit the floor, and she was about to complain but he already had her flat on her back, and again his hands were just everywhere, did he have extra arms? For a second she felt quite out of her depth until she found a shred of herself which was pissed that he'd somehow made this show about him again.

"Beej," he paused in pulling her skirt off.

"Too fast?"

She planted a foot in his chest and firmly put him flat on his back. His hands were clutched in the fabric of her skirt and he closed his eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The other shoe, however, seemed to be Lydia herself, straddling him in her panties and a disheveled tank top, fighting the buttons on his shirt.

"This is my show, bug boy," she glared up at him halfheartedly. He put his hands up in mock surrender. 

"This is your show, got it! I'm just the stage props, totally cool, that's fine."

She leaned down to kiss him again, finally getting his shirt undone. With a smile, she ran her fingertips down his chest, and clarified, "Well, I mean, maybe be a vocal audience? I don't know what I'm doing."

"Babe, you can do no wrong. But I'll give pointers if it helps. Like you should be topless!"

She didn't think that sex normally involved this much laughter, but she figured sex with Betelgeuse was probably better than normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before, but sex should be so fun you laugh. If it's not, get a book, have a conversation, practice. 
> 
> Also, I hope this reads as in character for a first time: Lydia's too brave to be a shrinking violet, and Betelgeuse is too jaded to be in awe.


	10. We're so full of hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter! How long can one actually be upset with a scoundrel anyway? It's in the tiger's stripes.

"So here's the thing," he started, and she actually did scream. Loudly. He paused and stared, "Oh my god that was absolutely amazing. And hot, Jesus Christ that was hot-"

"What the FUCK, Beej?!?" She was spun around on her chair staring at him. "How are you here?"

"Oh, right, tricked a Girl Scout," he waved a hand dismissively. 

"What the fuck is with you and Girl Scouts," Lydia muttered as she resumed brushing out her hair.

"The thing, Lydia, is you're generally right about everything," he continued, walking closer to her back.

"I know," she started. 

"Listen, will you, I have like fifteen minutes left here today," he tugged the hairbrush out of her hands. She glared up at him, so he began brushing out her hair gently. "I've spent all my time trying to find a way to get MORE time, as nonsensical as that sounds, and I'm beginning to think that unless you want to murder a very gullible Girl Scout-"

"Beej!"

"Right, right, I know you're pretty against the murder thing," Betelgeuse paused then snapped.

"Nothing changed," she said after a moment.

"Did for the Girl Scout."

She pulled the brush out of his hands and set it on the table. She stood, looking up at him with a blank expression. He tried not to squirm.

"You've been trying to get a longer time limit?"

"Yeah."

"Can you come back and talk to me about this tomorrow like we're two functional humans who can talk about their problems?" She was smiling a little.

"Does that method involve blow jobs, because I gotta say my method resulted in me getting AMAZING head-" He was cut off as she leaned up to kiss him.

"Yeah, sure."

"Deal," he managed, then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always crits and comments keep me sane and posting. <3


	11. We used to love one another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short flashback to simple times and comforts.

She'd woken up in the dark, overheated, heart racing and palms sweating, and pushed off her blankets with a grunt.

"Whatzat?" His voice was slurred.

"Beej?"

"Yeah," he sat up and blinked next to her. "You must'a called me in your sleep again. Dreaming something dirty there Lyds?"

"Nightmares," She shook her head. 

"Was I the nightmare?" He sounded smug.

"No, ass. You," she burrowed into his arms. "You were being chased by a sandworm. I was trying to save you. I was so scared, I was shouting and shouting and you couldn't hear me."

"Oh, doll," he brushed her hair back from where she lay against his chest. "Sandworms can't kill me, you already tried that. No big deal, I'm not getting taken down by some inarticulate reptile."

She held onto him, grateful for the chill of his skin, grateful for the familiar miasma of mildew and rain he'd brought with him. She listened to the breeze blowing through her window, hot but with the scent of ozone, and tried to think of cold things of wet earth and rivers and the bottom of the ocean.

"It's going to rain," he murmured against her skin.

"Can you stay?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah. Might have to duck out before you wake up, got a business meeting..?" He seemed quiet, but she nuzzled closer without really noticing. 

"If you stay I'll sneak us up ice cream for breakfast," she sighed into his hair.

"Sure, babes, I'll try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be a much smuttyer update later today, this is just some content that doesn't fit anywhere else!
> 
> Crits/comments/corrections are appreciated and loved (Please give me affirmations and affection!)


	12. White, white sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More weird monster smut!

"Okay, we can have this conversation but if you want to get laid you'll have to make it fast because I have some leads I need to chase-" he had been half joking but was cut off by her mouth on his.

She had her shirt off, then her skirt, then was working on his tie and growled in frustration. 

With a snap he had them both naked and was pushing her into the bed, "Miss me?"

"Oh my god stop talking and eat me out," she was saying the words into his mouth. He just smiled and kissed her deeply then manifested a few new mouths and started kissing her everywhere else as well. She shook and clung to him, "Please Beej, fuck, don't stop touching me."

It had only been two weeks, and in the grand scheme of things what was two weeks? What rush was he in? But the last few times they'd spoken, he'd felt like shit, like she had to know by now she could do better. Having her throw herself at him like this made his hands shake. Hell, it made his teeth shake. A clone dissolved somewhere from his lack of attention, and Lydia whined.

She felt a tightness around her thigh and reached down, stroking along a thick coil of something that was pulling her legs apart.

"You might want to closse your eyesss," his S's hissed and he sounded rougher than she'd ever heard.

"Don't care," she panted.

"This isn't my normal 'clone yourself to make her come' trick Lydsss, not sure you'll like this," he tried to warn her. She gyrated her hips, another clone was gone in dust. He tried one last time, "Babesss it's been a few weeks and you smell so fuckin good. I'm thinking I Iook a lot lesss human than is normal, even for me."

"Not human, never human," she gripped his face and kissed her way up his neck to a mouth of knifesharp teeth. "Love you, Beej."

She felt him shudder, felt coil after coil of muscle fill her bed, but his arms were pulling her hands up, over her head, pinning her to the mattress with every finger laced through hers.

He kissed her, his teeth still too sharp but oh so careful. He tasted like a garden again, sage and mint like fresh cut plant, and copper. She ran her tongue along a sharp tooth and tasted her own blood, and apparently so did he because she felt the twisting surge of miles of constrictor below her bed trying to move.

She pulled away and smiled at him, taking her time in looking him over. His arms were pale and shaking, looking human enough, if dead. His rib cage looked fine, and though things got scaly near his hips she could feel the length of his cock pressed between them. Her bent legs blocked a little of his skin, but beyond them was loops of snake, big as a rolled up carpet, scales tiny and glass smooth. She hadn't been close enough to any others, so she hadn't realized that the white and black scales on sandworms were opalescent like that. She looked back up into his face, and wiggled her hands free. He moved to take them back in his own, but she pushed his palms to the headboard again.

"Stay," she said quietly. 

She wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling him close to kiss. Her other hand reached down and tried to wrap around a slightly larger than normal dick. She tried not to think of anatomy class, ignored her appreciation that he just had the one, and helped slide his length into her. She was only able to manage a few inches before she was holding still, gasping.

He hissed, which she was utterly unsurprised by given the circumstances, and his hands were tracing along her waist.

"Are you just no good at following directions?" She was running her hands all over him as well, so it's not like she had a high ground in the argument.

One of the hands on her ribs pointed up, and she saw the two hands on the headboard and paused.

"Cheater!" She traced her fingers up arms, curious, feeling where his spare set started, tickling along two sets of shoulder blades. 

"Lydia,' He was breathing hard into her hair like a winter breeze.

"Your anatomy is amazing Beej, I just want to take you apart," she was running the pads of her fingers up his spine, feeling the changes in his vertebrae. He repeated her name again, in too many throats and voices, like he was impatient with her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you trying to be good right now?" She wiggled her hips and he glared at her. "Is this what good looks like? Fine, you can move, it's like herding cats I swear."

He shifted, wrapping loops around her legs, sliding more deeply into her heat. She shook, trying to relax and adjust. 

"What would happen," she was running her hands along his cheeks, watching him concentrate, presumably on not breaking her, "if you bit me? Like this?"

"You'd jussst bleed," he replied, dragging her more upright until they were in a nest of snake coils, he was literally all around her. "Might die."

"You're not poisonous? No, wait, venomous?" 

"Oh, I'm both. But not to you," he had a long striped tongue reaching halfway down her neck and she was liquid in his arms.

He loosened a coil, sending her sliding down an inch, and she thought this had to be more of his magic, an enchantment, a trick or a lie, because she'd gotten an eyeful of him, gotten to feel how she couldn't wrap her hands around his cock like this, but here she was almost flush against his skin.

"Wait, poisonous or- ah-" she tried to keep him talking, tried to buy herself time to relax again. "Or toxic?"

He writhed and the whole world rolled around her, and that was it, she was flush against skin and scales and so fucking full and shivering.

"Oh Lydia, so curiousss," one arm was under her leg pulling her tight to him, an anchor of normalcy in all this madness. "I'm patented death, Lydia. You shouldn't be able to do thisss."

"What?" She was panting, and he rocked against her obscenely, draped her like a puppet in his arms.

"Thiss," he choked, and she realized his voice was unhinged, too low and high all at once. He moved them languidly, and it felt like an eternity of smooth scales like silk and bruising fingertips digging into her. Her skin was on fire, and every new brush of him was icy cold brightness on her nerves.

He pulled her close again, one hand rubbing slowly where it had found her clit, and kissed her with literally too much tongue and she saw stars, coming hard with her eyes wide open and locked on the yellow glow of his. When he came moments later she felt every part of him stiffen, a roiling tension under her and around her and inside her. He kept his eyes open as she clutched his arms and hands and coils, clenched around him even as she felt ice cold drips down her legs, until she felt him go boneless, tension gone.

She dropped her head back, eyes finally shut as she felt him lift her and listened to the monstrous slithering of him coiling again, shifting around her. 

"You can stay like this, if you want. If it's comfortable," she muttered the words into the skin of his neck and he stilled. "Beej?"

"Yeah, sure," he shifted them slightly, wrapping arms around her in the center of a nest of ice cold stripes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone here follow Coey Kuhn on patreon? You should, their work is awesome! Highly inspirational monster porn as well as fine art.
> 
> Also, this "lyrics from Mechanical Animals" title convention was cute, for about a hot second. Getting old now.


	13. Perfect like Kenedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ridiculous exposition ahoy! Also the first chapter set directly after the one before it.

"Well at least now I understand your ability to tame sandworms," she huffed when her breath came back.

"Birds of a stripe regularly try to eat each other, or somethin," He picked at his teeth which were still too sharp, but at least his natural speech pattern was back. She looked up from where she'd nestled her head in his neck.

"How long do we have left?"

He grumbled and she felt a shift underneath her. His long tail flicked in front of her wrapped up in a cartoonish number of watches. 

"What's that look like, two hours remaining? Damn, go me." He grinned and she flicked the tip of his tail playfully. 

"So let's talk timelines here," she shifted to face him, and he curled a coil up to give her something to lean on.

"I remember you couldn't say your name directly, so is this something which you are physically able to talk about?"

He looked up at her with a raised brow, "God you're smart, it's surprisingly sexy."

"Surprisingly? I'm assuming prior to me your tastes ran blonder," she drummed her fingers against his sternum. "Can you answer the prior question?"

"Right, time ta' talk time. I can confirm a time limit exists, and that you have the duration of it right. I'm only able to say that cuz you already guessed it. But a lot of this is gonna be too complex for charades..."

"Are there other options than wholesale murder of Girl Scouts? Murder free, that's actually probably a requirement."

"Probably?"

"I mean, if we could just kill somebody really nasty I might consider it," she picked her nails.

"Oooh, look at you, my little murderess! Sexy," he crowded up to her again and ran his mouth along her neck.

"Stop, stop, give me murder free options!"

"Eh," he leaned back. "I've found a few grim ones, a few that are functionally impossible, and one option that's simple enough but neither of us would like."

"Functionally impossible?"

"We're fresh out of unicorns and alchemists in this world, babes. Some recipes don't age well."

"Okay. What about the grim ones?"

"Most involve murder, most on a grander scale than one dumb Girl Scout. There's also one that I vetoed which involves lifelong torture for the Girl Scout, but I feel like I know you well enough to say that's a hard pass."

"Was she a really nasty Girl Scout?"

"Her favorite cookies were the cheese triangles," he was solemn. 

"Oh my God, I let that monster walk free?"

"We can totally still find her and saw her legs off!" He sounded genuinely excited, and she rolled her eyes. 

"No, you like Samoas, so obviously you can't judge," she patted a black patch of scales affectionately.

"What the hell is wrong with Samoas?"

"What about the simple-ish option that we'll both hate?"

"Oh, hate's a very strong word…"

She glared at him unamused. 

"I don't think it's worth the cost to you, like the Girl Scout. I need more time, babes, let me look for other options," He ran a hand along her neck, under her jaw.

"You've got eternity, right?" She smiled and kissed his palm.

He blinked up at her, a thousand coils shifting. She rolled off him, onto the bed with a flop, and suddenly he was standing and dressed, straightening his tie.

"I'm impatient, Lyds. I've got leads to chase, madmen to harass, monsters to shame, you know the deal. Don't wait up, alright?" He was speaking as he walked out the window. 

"Kay, bye!" She called after him, slightly shell shocked. He waved without glancing back and dissolved with the step that would have led him off the roof.

"I didn't want to cuddle anyway," Lydia glared after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upped the chapter count, but I'm still not sure it's TOTALLY accurate? I'm inventing and wrapping up the plot in quick succession and I apologize for that? I should have telegraphed shit better, but in my defence I walked onto this set thinking this was porn without a plot soooo... 
> 
> As per usual, crits/comments/corrections keep be alive! <3


	14. I'm so empty here without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More exposition and something I should have telegraphed soooooooner!

"Don't you have a prom or some shit?" They were sitting on her bed, watching a black and white TV she'd found behind the hardware store. She'd asked the Maitland's if it had been theirs and did they want it, but most of the time (other than checking in on her grades and the occasional extended-family dinner with the Deetz's) Barbara and Adam had been spending poking around the Netherworld so they didn't really need to kill time at a TV.

Barb had also seemed vaguely offended that Lydia thought they were so old as to have had a black and white set.

The light from a Twilight Zone marathon hit Betelgeuse's face harshly, making him look like he'd stepped off the screen as some greyscale horror show. Lydia thought he looked rather dashing, which in turn made her shudder. She'd only just kissed him last month, only lost her virginity last week, and she'd only planned that far. Just because she trusted him with sex, and alright maybe trusted him with her life, didn't mean she was attracted to him.

"It's just a dance," she said. "I don't have anything to wear, and it's lame. Fat chance."

She turned back to the television, pretending she didn't see him look concerned for a moment. He turned back to the TV and snapped his fingers. She heard a rustle then bang behind her, turning around to see her closet door thrown open and her one-time wedding dress hanging from it.

"What the fuck?" She stood. 

"Well look at that," Betelgeuse peered over his shoulder as though surprised, "Something to wear. Might be a bit tight…" and a flick of his fingers the dress shifted, getting longer and only slightly less frilly

"Are you kidding?" She took a step toward the dress and away from him. 

"You like it? I can drop you at the dance, still. Easy trick to get you there," she couldn't see him, but she could hear his smile. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" She whirled around to face him. "No I don't fucking like it, I DESPISE that dress! Are you joking?"

"What."

She rubbed her eyes, already tired. 

"Put it back. Preferably in hell."

There was another rustle and bang and the dress was gone. 

"Not a fan of red..?" He actually sounded confused. She was painfully aware that he was not human, hadn't been in a very long time, and when he had been he'd likely been a total fucking asshole. 

"Okay. Alright. Okay," she breathed deeply through her nose a few times. "Here's what I'm willing to do. I'm going to explain to you why I arm so mad, then I'm going to banish you and we're not gonna talk for at least a week, and I'm going to watch TV alone for the rest of the night. It's that or I start trying to kick your ass. Cool?"

"Cool…" He was startled enough that he'd forgotten to blink or breathe in the last five minutes. 

"I despise that dress. That dress is a reminder of the worst night of my life, and while I've managed to try and forget it, I have absolutely not forgiven you for it," she wasn't getting misty eyed. Her heart wasn't racing.

"Lyds," he started, but she jumped back.

"Nope! My parents were TERRIFIED and I couldn't help them! The Maitlands almost DIED that night, forever, gone! I almost lost them! It was like every nightmare I've ever had where I wanted to scream and couldn't," And okay, she was crying a little but that was fine. "Anytime I look exhausted or tell you I was too tired to hang out? It's probably 'cause I didn't sleep because of the nightmare of everyone I love dying and leaving and I can't talk-"

He still looked greyscale, like a Romero zombie, like something that used to hold a person but was now just meat. She couldn't keep explaining like this was normal.

"BetelgeuseBetelgeuseBetelgeuse!"

She stopped crying just a minute after he was gone. She flipped the TV to another station, totally blind to what was playing. After a few deep breaths she didn't even feel shaky anymore, just bruised somehow. She flipped off the TV and headed downstairs.

"Hey Delia, what are you watching?" She was at the edge of the room, strategically keeping the armchair between herself and her stepmother.

"Just something on PBS. Did you need anything dear?"

"No. Can I watch with you? That little set I have in my room has weird audio," Lydia stepped around the armchair and curled up in it.

"Sure, dear. Didn't you have a dance you wanted to go to?"

"No," Lydia tried not to sigh. "No, I decided not to go. Not my scene."

"Lydia," Delia muted the TV for a moment and looked over at her stepdaughter seriously. "You're a very mature girl, for your age. I'm not saying you should do things you don't want to, but don't skip out on things you might like just because you feel they're immature. You're almost done with High School, and you're meant to be experiencing new things, finding out what you like and what you hate!"

Lydia smiled at her stepmother, "Thank you, Delia. But yes, for sure I hate dances. And those awful dresses girls wear to them."

Lydia didn't find the note on her vanity until the next morning. It read simply, "I'm didn't realize. B." She figured that was an apology, but still waited a week before summoning him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, y'all are getting an edited first draft here, and from a composition standpoint I'm NOT GOOD. You get what you pay for and this is free porn, so like- Ugh. What I'm saying is I apologize that the plot is getting rushed even by MY standards and I hope y'all can enjoy this for what it is.
> 
> Crits/comments/corrections wanted, tho right now I'm deffo my own loudest critic!


	15. She's been forecast with an attempt to kill herself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smutty chapter which will require me updating the tags.

"I'm going to college next fall," she leaned forward onto his chest, stuttering on the last word. She paused to breathe evenly, trying to give herself time to acclimate. His lack of heat was sometimes still shocking and maybe even disturbing.  
“That would make more sense than getting a job at the local burger joint.” 

Lydia rolled her hips, taking just a little more of him into her, trying again to adjust to the cold of him inside her very hot and very living pussy. Having a functional circulatory system was certainly a contrast.   
“Why are you so cold today?”  
“It’s almost winter,” Betelgeuse held on to her hips loosely, trying not to move. One of his hands traced down her spine slowly.   
“You’ve been in here with me for awhile, shouldn’t you get warm?” She slid incrementally down.  
“What temperature is it six feet down? Also is this helping, this banter? You gettin’ something out of this?”  
“No,” she held still.   
“If this is too much,” his finger slid lower pressing gently at the buttplug she had in, “We can stop.” 

She shook her head almost violently. She was panting into his neck as he ginned and pressed on the plug. He released the pressure and she pressed back, sliding down onto his cock another inch. 

“Okay, well that was the last exit on this road trip,” he cupped her face. “You’re really gorgeous like this babes.” 

“What, overwhelmed?” She felt another set of hands on her hips, nails dragging along her skin.   
“A little scared,” he purred. She shuddered and leaned back into the hands on her hips. 

“I’m not scared.”   
“Sure you’re not,” a set of hands pulled her into a deep kiss. Another set took advantage of this new position to gently rock the plug inside her before pulling it out. 

His clone was kissing along her shoulder, one hand on her hip and the other gently pushing two fingers into her ass. The clone winked salaciously at her when she glanced back, as though he wasn’t also already fucking her. 

“You are so weird Beej,” she tried to joke, but her voice wavered. It made his skin crawl in the most delicious way.

"Tell me about college," he pulled her closer, one hand on the back of her head while the other gently spread her open for his doppelganger. She felt cold fingers and slippery cold lube, and she was panting. 

"Going to, ah! Thinking of going to California…" she was stuttering again.

"I love the beach…" 

"Would you, oh god, fuck," she kissed him as he rolled his hips, then she went on. "Would you visit me?"

"You think somethin' could stop me?" He asked and his voice was dripping. "Even you couldn't keep me away."

Behind her another set of hands was sliding another version of his dick against her and she was trying in vain to lean back against him. His words were moderately terrifying and some higher part of her brain recognized that it was men like this Delia had warned her about, but his tone was a warm bath of relaxation and she just let herself melt.

"That's my girl," he purred in two voices, then with a slow grind she was so full, completely overloaded and utterly limp in his arms. "Did I kill ya?" 

"Oh my god, shut up. Keep moving. I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"What can you possibly think of that's more depraved than this?"

He didn't actually have a good answer out of hand, so he just rolled his hips in tandem and watched her claw at the sheets.

After a minute of uneven gasps and shifting they found a rhythm, slowing frequently to kiss the man below her. 

"Feelin' a little left out," spoken low, behind her. 

She felt the words between kisses to her shoulder blades, so she leaned up so so slowly, reveling in the way he shifted and shifted inside her. She reached one arm back, twisting, listening to the panting in stereo, until she felt his hair, until she could turn into a sloppy messy half-kiss over her shoulder. His hands wrapped around her chest, teasing her nipples that had gone hard in the cold.

Apparently the view of the kiss was enough to send the lover below her over the edge, and watching him come made her come made the other him come, in a feedback loop of white bliss.

After a moment of panting everyone peeled apart, her sweat clinging to them all, and within a blink he was one person again, watching her stand on shaky legs. 

She walked into the bathroom, only to find him already there and turning the shower on high and hot.

"Teleportation: cute," she lightly slapped his butt as she walked into the shower and leaned against a slate wall. 

He detached the shower head and sprayed her in the face. She laughed and swatted at his hands until they were tangled up again and the shower head magically found its way back to the wall. 

"So, in a way… You're moving to the west coast with me," Her words were slow, she was speaking against his chest, lips dripping water. The contrast of his coldness with the hot water was mesmerizing.

"Follow you anywhere on earth, Lyds."

"What about Mars?"

"Mh," he backed into the wall and held her. "Sure. No Saturn though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's some more smut, hope y'all enjoyed that. Bot sure why this chapter was nearly impossible to write, there's like five false starts in my drafts.
> 
> Crist/comments/corrections are life! I'm really gonna push to try and get this fic finished in the next few days, but my hopes aren't SUPER high.


	16. You can't play this game...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end, with shockingly little angst.

"Can you just copy the style of it?" Lydia was asking, awkwardly. This was a small town, going shopping could be a public experience here. She'd just turned eighteen and was about to move across the country, combined that with the fact that she'd never grown out of her goth phase and she was already ripe pickings for gossip. 

"Sure can, old fashioned but hey. You're sure about the text?"

"Yes, struck through."

"Alright, simple enough. Be done Friday."

She slipped out of the shop onto the busy street and tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

Her next stop was simpler, she hopped on her bike and pedaled til the mailbox, and sure enough there it was, passport wrapped up in expedited tape a mile long. 

"Good," she grinned at the thing, excited for summer and the way the world felt like it was opening up in front of her.

She was home and locking her bike up in record time, then up the stairs and back to packing. 

"Hey, pst," her vanity rattled. "You home?"

"Might be."

"Can I come out and play?" She felt a ghostly tentacle slip out from under the bed and caress up her calf.

"I'm packing for Berkeley. Are you going to actually help?"

"Why you packing so early? You only just graduated last week, ya got all summer."

She shrugged.

"Come on, it's me. Tell me, give me the lowdown, share the deets, Deetz," he sounded moderately unhinged, which made her nervous and excited all at once.

But now was not really the time...

"Beej, did you want out or did you want me?" She asked, taping shut a box.

"I always want you, babes," he was whining, literally, high pitched whining behind his voice from a whole new throat.

She packed a box of odds and ends, and moved it to the foot of her bed. The whining died into silence slowly. She looked at the mirror, saw him pretending to ignore her badly. She called his name three times and resigned herself to getting back to packing later.

Three hours and a nap later, she was back up, showered and dressed and very relaxed. He was lingering in the mirror, and she could see the cracked plaster of the Roadhouse behind him.

"Not that today wasn't amazing, but you didn't have any 'research' you needed to do?" 

His fingers stopped tapping the glass, "Not today."

"Hm. Haven't needed time on this side for research in a few weeks," she observed, folding a box from flat into functionally square.

"Erg," he replied noncommittally. She glanced over and saw him glaring down at his own hands.

"Well I need about a week here, to get things together for college. We're flying over to tour the campus. I hate to ask, but will you be alright without coming over to this side for a week?" She was outright watching him now. He seemed to come to some decision, nodding.

"Psh, of course babes. You know me, busy guy, lots to do. In fact I gotta get gone here," he stood at that, straightening his jacket pompously. She rolled her eyes

"Kay Beej, see you soonish."

And then he was gone, the mirror showing her own wallpaper. She threw a shawl over it for the night, in case he got curious when she wasn't looking.

She wandered upstairs, knocking twice on the attic door before letting herself in.

"Babra? Adam?"

"Out here, dear!" Barbara's voice called out from the roof.

The couple was sitting together on the roof, watching the sunset red as anything. Lydia leaned on the windowsill between and behind them.

"We're flying out tomorrow for Berkeley. I wanted to check in," Lydia's voice was a little wistful. 

"You're going to have so much fun, kiddo!" Adam was unabashedly enthusiastic.

"I'll miss you," Lydia complained.

"For goodness sake, Lydia, you know where we'll be! Even with volunteering in reception, it's not like we'll be gone more than a few days from the house," Barbara managed to sound both exasperated and compassionate.

"My worst fear is dying out there and having to wait a hundred years to see you all…" 

"Great," Barbra stood and crowded Lydia out of the window to squeeze back inside, "So you finally fear death. That's healthy!"

Adam snorted and climbed in as well.

Lydia finished packing that evening with help from the Maitlands, and was up and gone early the next morning for her flight. She left a black kiss mark on the mirror for him to find if he got maudlin and decided to haunt her room.

Delia pestered her the whole flight there about her plans for summer, to which Lydia kept replying with something about "playing it by ear." By the time they touched down in SFO Delia was just thrilled to be in "the city" though she did keep pointing out how much more sophisticated New York was and how "hippie" is was here. At least she dropped her questioning. 

They went to campus, drove around the nearby suburbs, she watched her father fall in love with someplace with Walnut in the name, and they went to the SFMOMA so Delia could shamelessly compare it to the "real MOMA."

By the time it was Friday they were all sick of each other and stuffed back on a plane. They flew in to storm clouds and rain, then drove further into the storm to get back to Winter River. Lydia stared out the window enraptured by the weather.

Back in her room it seemed Betelgeuse had indeed found her kiss, and there was a little cartoon penis drawn next to it. While she was wiping up the lipstick and scrubbing at the sharpie dick, she realized she was smiling. She smiled all the way to sleep.

"Can I borrow your car?" Lydia asked. She'd been waiting in the hallway, and had asked the moment Charles slipped out of the bedroom. 

"Holy crap! Lydia, you scared me."

"Sorry Dad, but. Can I? I need it for a little roadtrip, and it'll be probably all day. Uhm. Can I borrow your Toyota and have you and Delia share her Buick for the day?" She was using her best adult-talking-to-another-adult voice, as though she wasn't in a black floor length gown and lipstick at nine am.

"Sure, Lydia, I didn't have plans today. You know, I was thinking it might be cheaper to have you drive to California with your stuff rather than fly all your things out," her father tightened his robe like this wasn't a big gesture. "You could have the Toyota, drive it out there?"

"That would be amazing Daddy!" Lydia hugged him in reply, and they walked downstairs. Lydia had brewed coffee, and left a pot of water simmering for his tea.

"Ahem, well. Maybe you'll even go out thwre again with me and look at some property: that Walnut Whatever is underpriced and I thought it might be a good investment to have some property out there. Might even be cheaper than the dorms."

"That's excessive, Dad," she said.

"Just a thought! Buy an old place, make you fix it up for a few years, flip it once you graduate. You don't seem like the 'throwing keggers and trashing hotel room' type, my dear. Plus, you like painting!"

"Canvases, not houses Dad!"

"Well we'll talk about it."

Lydia emptied her coffee and stood, sweeping the keys off the counter.

"Alright, I'm leaving before you decide my major for me! Love you Dad."

"Call if you're out past midnight!"

She dogged raindrops to the car, then from car to store and back until she had finished her errands. She finally killed the engine and let herself dry off in the drivers seat for a minute, staring out through her windshield at the graveyard before finally rooting through her bags and stepping out of the car. She swung her purse onto her shoulder and locked the car before heading in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, you all know where this is going, I am so sorry I'm not turning this into a 50k thesis on power dynamics and respect like I should, but theoretically that's what my other AU fic is for.
> 
> Crits/comments/corrections keep me well fed as an author!


	17. This is heaven upside down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ending.

"Oh my god, are we in a crypt? Kinky shit, Lyds." His eyes were roving around, looking for a skull to turn into a puppet. "Are we gonna screw in a tomb? I gotta admit, not my first rodeo, but for you this is a new level of debauchery. So proud."

"I just liked the ambiance," Lydia had hoped up onto a stone casket and was kicking her heels against it. She had leaned the bolt cutters and crowbar inside the doorway, and then ringed the room with lit candles, so there was definitely a mixed theme to the affair.

"So we're not getting naked," he stopped in front of her, paused in the middle of peeling out of his guide jacket.

"Let's talk, Beej."

"Ah, you're leaving me. Okay, totally got it, was expecting but not looking forward to this," he shrugged back into his coat. "I get it, college, guys not centuries older than you, brave new world. You're gonna have a great time and it's probably for the best that you let go of all this kid stuff, pft. I mean, cliche but valid, you have to leave your high school sweetheart and see the world."

"What."

"No, Lyds, come on. I haven't found a single thing to get longer out here, I can read a room. You like the am-bee-ance here because it's a reminder that I'm gone, you're not. And really, that makes sense-" He knew he was monologing, hands gesturing wildly as he spoke, but he couldn't seem to stop.

"Beej," she tried again.

"You're gonna have to live life and-"

"Betelgeuse, marry me."

She had rings. When had she gotten-

"Is that the ring… Is that MY ring?" That was his voice, but he didn't remember speaking. Was he using his own mouth?

"Yeah."

"You kept it? I thought-"

"Yeah."

His mouth was dry which was stupid to notice because that was normal, "Why?"

"I mean, diamonds and gold don't devalue, figured worse case I could sell-" she hopped upright and walked to stand in front of him.

"No, why marry. Me." He probably wasn't breathing. He tried, a few times for appearances sake, but forgot again when he met her eyes.

"Well I have it on good authority that you should marry your best friend. Also the sex is good, I guess-" his glare cut her off as she laughed. "Also, it gives you more time up here, doesn't it? And you were never gonna ask again."

"I'm dead."

"Deadskie," She confirmed.

"No longer living-"

"I know. Hence the ambiance."

"You're starting a life."

"Was hoping it'd be with you, but yeah," she still had her palm open, with two rings.

He picked them up and eyed them critically. His eyes flickered between hers and the bands. 

"Are they inscribed?" He squinted.

"If you were willing to admit you need reading glasses and CARRIED some," she ignored his scoff, "then you'd see that they have the words 'til death' in them, struck through. I thought it was cute."

He made a noncommittal noise and stared at them. She shifted from foot to foot, seemingly more exasperated and nervous. 

"If it's any consolation we can argue that since you asked me first, and I never actually said no, you actually proposed."

"Deal!" And he was kissing her, and she was just as sweet and warm as he remembered, even if it only had been one week. He managed to get the ring on her finger, then get his on his finger, then he was crowding her back onto the stone casket she'd been sitting on.

"So Lydia, want to defile a tomb?" He was purring into her ear, and the candles in the room were flickering and dying out with the wind from all his voices asking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooops, that got sappy! If you're still here, oh my god thank you. I think this is one of my few completed multi-chapter fics! 
> 
> So overall, as I say, crits/comments/corrections are love and... I'm not trying to bribe you all, but any suggestions/requests in those COULD lead to a sequel that's just smut, solid wall to wall KINKY SMUT. If that motivates you.


End file.
